No Regrets
by Hephaestion118
Summary: Elijah Baley thought that he would never see Daneel again after they parted at the conclusion of the Auroran investigation. He had no idea how wrong he was on that count.
1. A Walk Outside

This piece takes place after the events of _The Robots of Dawn _and is rated M and for a reason and will contain slash. Please don't read if you find this offensive. This will also be multi-chaptered and I'll update as often as I'm able. Also, any feedback would be greatly appreciated as I'm fairly new at writing and am open to any feedback or criticism you'd like to offer.

I do not own any of the works this is based on and am making no money in any way.

Thank you for taking the time of read this story!

No Regrets

Plainclothesman Elijah Baley knew it was foolish to be Outside on his own but he knew that it was the only way to find clues to how the killer had managed to elude the authorities. It seemed improbable that a City man would venture outside the safety of the steel walls but, just as with the case of the murdered Dr. Sarton, it was not outside the realm of possibility. Baley smiled bitterly to himself at the memory of that case and how it had introduced him to one of the most important people in his life. R. Daneel Olivaw.

_Right, _he sighed to himself. _Thinking of Daneel as a person again._

As much as he kept reminding himself that Daneel was a robot he could not think of him completely as such. He felt too deep a love for him and how could a man love a robot? The affection still sat as a small but bright ember in his chest flaring up into a burning pain at the most inconvenient of times. Sometimes when he was with Jessie, other times when he encountered one of those simple robots they produced on Earth, or when he saw a particularity beautiful, perfect human male form. If only Baley and Daneel both could have gotten past Olivaw's nature then maybe….but no, Daneel could no more stop being a robot then Baley could stop reminding himself that he was one. The plainclothesman felt the knot of pain rise unbidden into his throat but he quickly swallowed it down. He would not allow himself to feel any pain or regret. He would not. Neither he nor Daneel had taken advantage of the time they had had alone on the trip back from Aurora and that was just that.

Sighing deeply, he forced his thoughts back to the investigation at hand. He had been chosen for this part of the investigation since it was assumed he was used to the Outside having seen much of it on his two trips to the Outer Worlds. In some ways they had been right but he still suffered from agoraphobia and he had no desire to spend any more time Outside then was strictly necessary. Unfortunately, he also had to complete this portion of the investigation alone as there was a distinct lack of volunteers in the department when he had asked if any of his colleagues wishes to join him. He found himself longing for Daneel's steady, fearless presence. No, that would not do. No regrets.

_Concentrate on finding clues then you can go back to the safety of the City, _he admonished himself.

Yeast-town covered a large area and, due to the pungent smell, not many ventured there unless they were unfortunate enough to work or live in the area. It was possible a declassified individual could have posed as a Yeastman, committed the murder, then fled across the open fields between it and the other domes of the City and back to the anonymity that declassification provided. He had started his search outside Yeast-town and had found footprints in the dense, soggy ground leading away and toward the City. He wrinkled his nose at the memory of the heavy, pungent scent of the vats and he found himself taking a deep breath of the cool, fresh Outside air.

_Jehoshaphat_, he mused, _I'm a City man! Outside air cool and fresh? _He had indeed been ruined by his trips to the Outer Worlds.

He had followed the path of the prints but they had slowly disappeared as the ground grew increasingly wet and spongy and covered with a hardy plant that, on Solaria, he had learned was called grass. His boots sank into the boggy mud as he carefully knelt down to inspect where the last print was just visible and cast his gaze about looking for any further clues as to where the person who made the tracks could have gone. Twisting around he was startled to see how far he had drifted from the City in his dogged pursuit of the footprints. It stood lumpily in the distance, the domes shimmering with the heat of the sun. Standing, he swallowed a wave a panic as a series of terrible scenarios assaulted his mind.

What if he fell and broke his leg?

What if he did not have the strength to walk back to the City?

What if a storm sprung up suddenly as it had on Aurora?

What if…

Taking a deep breath he forced his thoughts to calm. He must finish this part of the investigation so that the department could commit him to pursing this case inside the City. Looking longingly one last time at the great shimmering domes and spires of New York he squared his shoulders and returned his gaze to the wet ground at his feet. The footprints were leading _away_ from the City, not toward, but there was not another settlement, much less another City, within miles. The killer _must_ have doubled back and returned to its safety. Taking a careful step forward he looked down again as his attention was caught by the squishing sound his boot made as he pulled it free from the mud. It clung to his boot in dripping globs and he wrinkled his nose at the wet, musty smell of it. If these were indeed the prints of the killer they would have had to come back into the City with shoes, and possibly clothes, covered in this stinking reality of the Outside. Anyone would notice, and smell, someone covered in such mud. Staring back toward the City he decided he would begin the next step in the case by interviewing the declassified to see if they had encountered anyone fitting this description and he silently congratulated himself on this quick turn of thought.

Turning abruptly to begin his long walk back to the City his smug thoughts quickly vanished as his mind registered the clamping pull of the mud on his boot and his ankle's inability to move with the rest of his body. A sharp pain raced up the joint as it twisted within the snug boot and his mind flared with panic at the realization of his earlier fears. An involuntary cry was ripped from him as fear gripped him and he felt his ankle pop as it was twisted past its rang. Instinctively, he reached for the pain, forgetting to brace his hands to break his fall.

Suddenly, he felt impossibly strong arms wrap around his waist from behind and he was jerked back into a broad, warm chest. He fought against them in panic but they held him with patient, inhuman ease.


	2. An Unexpected Reunion

"Partner Elijah. You must relax," a familiar, calm voice whispered in his ear, causing his already strained breathing to cut off completely.

Only one being had ever addressed him as such. Daneel. He felt the robot draw him even closer until his body was flush all along Baley's. His fogged, pain-filled brain failed to register his old partner's intent and he struggled harder in his confusion and surprise. Why was Daneel here and why was he doing this? The robot drew a deep breath, expanding his chest against the human's back and then slowly letting it out.

"Breathe with me, Partner Elijah. I will not harm you." the soft voice again tickled his ear and suddenly Baley understood. Dropping his head back against the broad shoulder behind him he gasped a breath as Daneel gently expanded his chest against his back once more. He released it in a strangled groan as the robot breathed out against his ear.

"Yes, Partner Elijah. Breathe."

He almost sobbed in relief as the bands of panic around his chest began to ease and he was once again able to draw air into his starved lungs. He was mortified to find his legs turning to rubber as the adrenaline of the panic attack quickly left his body and he felt himself begin to sink against Daneel's strong form.

"Let go of me, Daneel. I don't need a robot's help!" he ground out, covering his humiliation in the only way he knew how. "Let go of me, robot!" he repeated harshly when the arms did not immediately release him. He weakly jabbed an elbow into the ribs behind him for emphases when his partner still failed to respond.

"No, Partner Elijah," the answer finally tickled across his ear. "You have just experienced a traumatic event, your ankle has been damaged and you cannot even hold your own body upright."

_Darn the First Law!_ Baley thought rashly. He made a vain attempt to get his legs up under him to prove the robot wrong but they were useless with exhaustion and the movement only served to draw a shot of pain up his right ankle.

"There is no one present. No one has seen you." Daneel calmly assured and the Baley was struck at how much his partner has come to understand him. He felt his anger recede only to be replaced with a deep shame. Daneel was only trying to help, only obeying the First Law, only being a robot. A robot.

_Why can't he be human? Why can't he come to rescue me because he wants to? _

He felt his anger spike again as frustration filled him. He wanted from Daneel something the robot could never give him. Then again, did robots breathe, did they solve crimes, and did they come to understand the pride and stubbornness that drove a certain human detective? Daneel was undeniably a robot and yet he did all those things. Perhaps he was capable of things beyond what the human imagined. Taking a deep breath, Baley forced his whirling thoughts and emotions to calm. The last thing he needed was a raging headache to compliment his already hurting and suddenly exhausted body.

As if sensing the acquiescence in his partner, one of Daneel's arms loosened slightly from its snug hold around Baley's waist and the human feared for a moment that the robot had decided to indeed allow him to slump to the muddy ground now that'd he'd given up. However, Daneel only bent slightly behind him and snagged the arm behind the plainclothesman's legs to lift him effortlessly into the protection of his embrace.

Baley felt himself torn between stinging humiliation and calming comfort as Daneel began to carry him with effortless ease. Like a child. Or a bride. Jehoshaphat! This was too much for his pain fogged mind to turn over and he allowed his eyes to drift closed. Daneel's shoulder was strong and soft under his head. His arms were so very sure. His clean smell a soothing comfort. The gentle rocking of his even steps a siren's call of surrender. Darkness crept up on him and enfolded his mind in its velvety embrace. He never saw the small smile that crept across Daneel's face or the tender spark that lit their blue depths.


	3. The Gentle Warmth

He felt himself floating with no sense of space or time yet there was all around him a calm, peaceful warmth that embraced him as tenderly as a mother would her newborn child. He had a brief sensation of the warmth settling his tired body on an equally soft and embracing surface before it began to pull away. He felt fear unsettle his mind at its loss and he heard himself cry out desperately as he blindly reached for it. The warmth immediately enveloped his hand, entwining with his searching fingers and banishing the surging panic. It weaved through his damp hair and smoothed over his troubled brow.

"Shhh….all is well," the warmth whispered, surrounding him with a soothing calmness and he followed it down into oblivion.

He was running. Desperately. He was buffeted by a driving wind that carried within it stinging pings that stuck all over his naked body while all around light flashed followed by a indescribable noise so loud he felt it would throw him to the ground. He could see the indistinct domes of the City in the distance through the sheets of cold rain but, no matter how hard he run, the storm held him fast in its crushing, stinging embrace. The City remained a fixed, mocking beacon in the distance and he desperately forced his exhausted body to run faster. Suddenly, he felt a fierce pain engulf his right ankle and he cried out in fear as the joint buckled, the slick ground slipping from beneath his bare feet. Squeezing his eyes shut, he instinctively threw up his arms to shield his head while tightening his body in anticipation of the pain that he knew would come as he careened uncontrollably toward the rain soaked ground. He was met not with the cold, wet hardness of the earth but found himself cradled instead in a soft, warm womb, its hold moving like liquid satin over his chapped and cold skin. It ran into every crevice of his body, running through his dark hair, into his ears, his navel and in between his legs and toes. He jerked in surprise, crying out in pain as the bones in his torn ankle ground together.

"My Elijah…..shhhh. Your ankle is badly broken and will need to be set."

He relaxed instantly as he recognized the voice as the peaceful warmth that had held his hand earlier. It slipped smooth, sure tendrils tenderly under his shoulders and knees and he felt himself lifted effortlessly out of the cradling womb. Cool air prickled his damp skin and he moved instinctively towards the gentle warmth and its comfort. A familiar, even rocking and then he was set on a briefly remembered soft, embracing surface. The tendrils slipped smoothly up between his shoulder blades, briefly cradling his nape to finally slip into his damp hair. He felt his head settled tenderly on an equally soft surface, the tendrils drawing the stands of his hair between them as they slowly withdrew. He drifted in semi-unconsciousness as they were replaced with a cool, soft cloth that carefully brushed over his damp hair, whisking away the moisture that lingered there. It moved slowly down to his face, neck, chest and arms and continued on until he felt his whole body cool and dry. The pain of his broken ankle forgotten under the intimate ministrations.

The respite lasted only a moment, however, as his ankle spiked again with agony as the joint was gently grasped and held. Fire shot through his body as the warmth wrapped its firm tendrils around it and began to move and manipulate the misaligned bones. He heard screaming. Someone desperately pleading to please stop. A loud pop and the agonized yells receded into faint sobbing.

"Forgive me, my Elijah. Not setting the bones would have done you greater harm." For the first time the warmth sounded out of sync and slurred. What had happened?

Something cool and wet was carefully smoothed over the red, irritated skin, penetrating deep into the strained tendons and muscle and he heard himself sign in desperate relief as the pain began to recede. He felt something soft and cool being wound around the joint, swaddling it in place firmly. The tendrils ran in loving stokes over the bandaged ankle before laying it down with infinite care and covering his naked body with a soft, warm blanket.

Who was this gentle warmth that knew his name and held and cared for him as if he was the most precious thing in the universe? This presence that surrounded him with such a familiar devotion, a touch with such well remembered gentle strength and power? His exhausted mind grasped at a beloved name but, no, they had parted never to see one another again. He did not have the energy to hope. No regrets.

"Who are you?" he whispered, reaching out his right hand blindly toward the sound of the warmth's voice with the last of his strength. It was again caught and held.

"My Elijah, you must rest. We will talk when you are well."


End file.
